


Problems

by MaiTai1327



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Domestic, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-05
Updated: 2015-11-24
Packaged: 2018-04-24 23:35:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4938250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaiTai1327/pseuds/MaiTai1327
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will and Hannibal escape together and build a new life together, the one they were always dreaming about, and now finally, they can have it. And this is where their ‘happily ever after’ should arrive, but no, something entirely else happens: they slowly start to face the problems of long-term relationships.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cold

**Author's Note:**

> _Rated Explicit because of explicit slash content. Additional warnings: minor references of canon typical violence, explicit imagery of alcohol consumption, minor references of hetero-sex, and coarse language. If you need more specific warnings, feel free to add me on Skype (my ID: maitai1327) where I can personally answer any questions you might have before you read the story._
> 
> **Thanks so much to The-blackfirewolf for the wonderful betawork and to Nessarose for her awesome help.**

Hannibal sits down beside the dining table, placing his coffee in front of him. Will has already been sitting by the table in his dull gray, faded t-shirt and blue jeans, sipping his coffee mutely. He doesn’t greet the older man, even though this is the first time they have seen each other this morning. Lately, they spend their mornings in silence around one another.

Hannibal takes his spoon to add some brown sugar, but when he sees the way Will is staring over his shoulder through the window glass, with a worn-out, empty look blurring the light blue of his irises, without even noticing the other man in the room, the doctor can’t hold back a remark. “You’ve spoiled the coffee again. I can smell it.” When this is not enough to draw a reply from his partner, Hannibal continues talking, “I told you umpteen times to select the finest pieces of roasted beans and not to simply grind all that’s in the package.”

For a few seconds, Will still gives no answer, and keeps looking out the window without a stir.

When the younger man finally speaks, his voice is toneless. “Next time, make it yourself.” And with a mirthless, caustic smirk he adds, “But maybe then you wouldn’t have two hours in the morning to spend in front of the bathroom mirror... like some fucking princess.”

The spoon freezes in the doctor’s pale, slim hand. His response is forcedly calm, but the iciness of it is almost threatening, “Do you have some problem with my morning routine?”

Will just shrugs, staring into his coffee cup now.

At first, Hannibal wants to frame a haughty retort about the miserable condition of Will’s clothing, and to suggest that instead of criticizing him, Will should perhaps take a look in the mirror, but then he realizes the useless, childish direction of the conversation and decides to turn it around. Instead, he makes a small, slow motion to put his hand on Will’s lower arm over the slab of the table, while murmuring, “I spend this much time preparing my outfit because I want you to like the way I look.”

Perceiving the doctor’s intention to touch him, Will secretly pulls his arm away, holding his cup with two hands now, leaning back in his chair. His reply is bitter, “No, we both know that’s not true. You do that because you are a neat freak.”

And after that, they mutually decide they are better off without speaking, and drink their coffee in complete silence.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Two years ago, their conversation went like this:

_Hannibal entered the kitchen, and found Will fumbling with two porcelain cups near the sink. The younger man was wearing only his boxer shorts and a sloppy t-shirt, and he looked sluggish, drowsy, and – according to Hannibal – incredibly desirable. The thought that Will had gotten up earlier just to make coffee for his partner warmed Hannibal’s heart._

_The doctor stepped behind him, sliding an arm around the younger man’s waist, and placed a small peck on the top of his unkempt curls. Inhaling the raw, unique smell of Will’s skin, Hannibal let out a low, wanting growl, and Will moved a bit closer to him, nestling up in his arms._

_While leaning his head on his partner’s shoulder, Will muttered sleepily, “I wanted to make coffee for us, but... but this new machine you bought yesterday... doesn’t seem to work.”_

_“Dear one, you’ll need to grind the coffee beans first. Let me show you.”_

_With one hand holding his partner to his torso, the doctor started to organize the necessary tools on the kitchen counter-top with the other hand._

_It took a few long minutes to teach Will all the steps of how to prepare everything for an immaculate coffee, and after that, Hannibal was more than eager to pull Will back in his arms, embracing him again from behind._

_Will remarked quietly, “I like that you make boring household tasks look like a work of art. Beautiful and spotless.” Hannibal could hear from the tone of Will’s words that the younger man smiled with fondness._

_The doctor returned the smile, and gently turned Will around so that he could kiss him on the lips. Will’s eyes grew wide when he realized that Doctor Lecter was already wearing a dark brown Armani suit with a matching tie and a creaseless silk shirt._

_“Oh, you already look perfect, so early in the morning,” the younger man grinned, and they melted into a deep kiss, soon forgetting about their coffee._

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

They left the United States three years ago, and their new life together started with many difficulties. Their first year was full of hiding and lies, moving from one town to another, always on the run, always protecting themselves with tiresome precautions. And they didn’t just have to fight for keeping their facade together, but also had to struggle with the deep mistrust between them. But after months of hard work and slow steps of carefully experimenting with more and more physical contact, they managed to learn how to show love to each other. They learned how to smile at each other without a cautious glimpse at each other’s hands, eyes searching for a possible weapon, how to call each other ‘my love’ without sounding fulsome and mannered, and how to have each other’s backs. They almost reached a level of happiness and comforting satisfaction even normal couples rarely have. And this is where they could have had all the beauty Hannibal was so eager to show Will, and they could’ve truly enjoyed their life as a family. But instead, for some unknown reason, things started to fall apart.

Hannibal is not one hundred percent sure of the point where their relationship started to go awry. It was not just the question of a day or two. It was a tendency. Slow, indirect, and stealthy. He could not grasp it. But somehow during their second year together, the smiles gradually turned into sneers, the yearning kisses turned into listless shrugs, and the sweet, little signs of kindness turned into automatic, emotionless habits.

And now they are both deep in this.

The worst is the emptiness in Will’s eyes. Will always had some kind of feelings for him. Even when it also contained a form of hatred or disgust, Will did have feelings for Hannibal. Real, deep feelings, glimmering in the blue of his eyes. The exciting, secretive ghost of light also hinted at something mild, soft, and yet somewhat full of heavy obsession: genuine love. But now, nothing. Not even anger or despise. _Nothing_. Those eyes are empty like a corpse’s.

Hannibal can’t recall when the last flicker of passion disappeared from Will’s eyes, but it must have been eight or nine months ago. That was when Hannibal had to travel to Rome and was away on a business trip for two weeks. It was the longest time they spent apart, and Hannibal had to admit to himself that he had started to miss Will after only a day. The vacant ache he went through made him believe that these lonely weeks might be able to help, since they made him realize how much he needed Will’s familiar smell, Will’s warm body, Will’s huffing and puffing in his ear while sleeping, and Will’s muttered words asking him how his day was. But when Doctor Lecter finally arrived home after the trip, intending to lock Will into an embrace and planning to ask him to spend the rest of the day like this, holding each other tight just to feel that they still belong to each other, the house was empty. Will had gone out fishing, and didn’t even bother to be there when the doctor came home. They didn’t talk that day at all.

Hannibal suspects that this was the final straw. Will didn’t miss him. And after that, the aura of their home turned ice cold. They barely look at each other now, and when they do, it’s only to see if they can catch a glimpse of something unpleasant they can acidly comment on.

Hannibal doesn’t understand how this could happen to the unfathomable, beautiful mental link they used to share. How could the mysterious, complex, and fiercely burning longing become this lifeless, dull enmity?

He is sitting alone in his office by the huge ebony desk, leaning forward on his elbows over the piles of documents, meditating upon these questions without finding answers.

Only one thing is for sure: he is not ready to let go of Will. Not without trying.

 _I have worked with all kinds of horrible mental issues of patients_ , the doctor tells himself. _It should be easy to solve such an everyday nuisance that my love life seems to have gone in an unwanted direction. There are so many greater psychological challenges I could effortlessly face. I’m going to sort this out soon, I should just make up my mind... The only problem so far has been that I was not determined enough to change this. But now that I am, I’ll work this out for sure. And it cannot be that difficult. We should just return to the emotional connection we used to have; I need nothing but a few well-planned attempts and patience. Yes, it’s going to be easy._

Or is it?


	2. Talk

Hannibal has the whole work day to ponder over how to resurrect their relationship, and when he arrives home from his office, he has already decided how to start. He needs to talk to Will first. Without both of them clearly seeing the root of their problems, there’s no use trying to solve them. They’ll have to talk this over, no matter how uncomfortable a conversation like this might be, and then they can start to draft a scheme to handle the issue. Normally, this is something he wouldn’t ask from Will. Up until now, he felt confident that he could give Will what could make him happy without talking about it, but this time, he is not sure that they can change the current situation without both of them trying. There are too many layers of timeworn routines, bored glimpses, disinterested shrugs, and annoyed frowns. After three years of living this closely together, continuously exploring the most hidden depth of each other’s minds, he can’t surprise Will anymore. They are living in a mental symbiosis like other couples after five decades. This is not something he can sort out alone; they’ll have to see through this together.

The doctor is just hanging his coat when Will appears in the stairway, heading for the front door. He avoids looking at the older man or greeting him, just takes his worn gray jacket from the rack, and pulls it around his shoulders.

Hannibal takes a small step in his partner’s way, managing to make him stop. “Will, we need to talk.”

“About what?”

“About us.”

Will stares at his shoes, hanging his head. “Yes?” he mutters under his breath.

“This is not something we should talk about in the doorway. Please follow me to the living room.”

“I’ll be back in an hour.” Will takes a quick step in the direction of the door.

Hannibal stands completely in his way, blocking the exit. “We need to talk now.”

“No, we don’t.” Will turns away from him and picks up the dog collar from the shoe rack, showing that he is planning to take Abby out for a walk.

Abby is a huge Rottweiler they adopted two years ago when moving to this house, and she is one of the main reasons they have stayed here. She has needed space and stability. One night when Will had been hunting alone, he arrived home with a blood-dripping leash and a shaken, bite-mark covered dog that spent her time either trying to attack Will or tearing the leash apart. Will had killed her previous owner for using her in illegal fights, and decided to bring her home.

It took over a month to make Abby accept Will as her new master, but then she’d begun to adore Will, and even managed to get on fairly well with Hannibal. The doctor decided that, taking into consideration the dangerous life they led, it was a good idea to have a ferocious, muscular, deeply loyal attack dog around, so he didn’t make a fuss over Will keeping her.

Now Will is standing close to the doorway, mechanically rubbing his knuckles together.

“We need to talk now,” the doctor repeats with equanimity.

A displeased pull drags on Will’s eyebrows while the younger man answers, “I know what you want, but this conversation would just hurt us both without any point. I’ll go and take Abby for a walk.”

“It’s my day to take her.”

Will tosses the dog collar in front of the older man on the shoe rack. “As you wish.” He wants to walk back towards the inside of the house, but Hannibal steps beside him, and grasps him by the elbow. When the doctor speaks again, his voice is resolute. “Could you please sit down in the living room?”

Will makes a small grimace, but he finally obeys with a half-hearted shrug, and goes to sit down onto the sofa.

Hannibal takes place next to him, and after a moment of considering, he starts the conversation calm and straightforward. “We have problems.”

Will emits a small sound that reminds Hannibal of a badly suppressed, bitter snicker.

The doctor continues, ignoring Will’s cynical reaction, “I can see that you are not happy with me anymore. Why are we unable to please each other the way we used to? What do you think?”

Will makes an edgy motion to rub his forehead, avoiding eye contact when giving his answer. “Look, maybe it’s my fault," he says. "I have never been in a relationship like this before. Any relationship I had before was more... distant. Two individuals, seemingly close, but emotionally far away from each other. Two separate worlds. And like that, it was easier to ignore the inconveniences. It was easier to ignore the whole thing. I mean, the relationship.” Will gives a haggard half-smile. “Okay, I sound really awkward now. I don’t know how to say this. But the point is that I have never had a mentally close relationship like this before.”

“Me neither,” the doctor replies with nonchalance.

Will doesn’t seem to feel less uncomfortable by the reply. He nervously pushes his fingers into his disorderly curls, holding his head in his hands now. “I don’t know... I... I think I can’t handle this relationship. Me with my empathy and you with your psychiatrist skills... I... I’ve had enough. This is too much. I mean, being together this closely, being so deep in each other’s heads, and living like two halves melted into one... I simply don’t enjoy sharing my life with anyone like this. Not even with you.”

“It’s not easy for me either,” the doctor says with patience. “I used to live a lonely life too, and being with you has been completely new to me as well. But we tried to learn it together. One step at a time, we were learning it. Why did we stop?”

The younger man shakes his head, almost irritated. “How should I know why you stopped?”

Hannibal doesn’t like the evasive answer, and chooses not to let it blur his original purpose. He replies stolidly, “I’d prefer that you don’t try to avoid my question. Why did _you_ stop?”

Will shakes his head again, still hiding his face behind his lower arms. But after long, weary seconds of silence, he whispers, “Because I don’t find you interesting anymore.”

Hannibal is taken aback by the response, and at first, he is unable to speak, he is just watching Will without a stir.

“If you need more challenge or more novelty, I can give that to you,” the doctor utters finally, voice low and almost cold from offended pain. “We can make a competition, like in May, two years ago. We were engaging in a contest about which one of us could pin a murder sooner on the arrogant old neighbor. I liked it when you asked him to lend you his bag, in which I’d hidden the blood-dripping, cut-off fingers of his ex wife. It had hindered my plan for almost two days before I figured out that you had burned the bag and bought him a new, matching one. Though my personal favorite was your trick with the cemetery and the decaying remains of his mother-in-law...” Hannibal gives Will a small, appreciating smile, but there is no reaction to it. Seeing the lack of response, the doctor stops recalling their memories, and instead utters with calm composure, “We can start a more complicated challenge this time, something that gives you a thrill.”

“You don’t understand...” That’s all Will mutters, but he doesn’t explain.

Hannibal folds his hands on his left knee, leaning closer to Will, eyes intent and searching. “Or we can move to another place. We can buy a new dog. We can quit our jobs. I can help you find a new hunting ground. We can go on vacation together, or we can try some sexual roleplay. I’m open to any suggestion, just tell me which area of our relationship you would like to improve with me.”

“No, no,” Will interrupts him in a hoarse growl. “It’s not our circumstances. I don’t have any problem with my life. I like our house, I like my job, I like my hunting ground, and I like Abby, and our backyard, and our books, and our rooms, and my habits, and my days... and everything. They are not boring me.” Will pauses, and then he adds in a short breath, “You are boring me.” He covers his face with his palms, drawing a long, tormented sigh. He seems both pained and relieved now that these heavy words left his lips. He continues quickly, as if he wishes to get his confession over with as soon as possible, “And I’m pretty sure that I am boring you too. Let’s be honest; we know each other too well. No roleplay or any sort of pretending can help. Challenges, games and tricks could save us if we didn’t know each other like this, but we do. And now that the passion is gone, we can clearly see that neither one of us is compatible with this lifestyle. We are the lonely creatures that are meant to crawl alone through the darkness of undersea caves. We will never find the happiness of those that are dancing together out in the sunshine.” Will slowly looks up, lowering his hands to his side. His blue eyes are clouded by the numb pain his own words are causing him. He adds quietly, “Our passion was so violent and was blazing so bright that it had to burn out this soon. It couldn’t last longer. We squeezed what we could out of our relationship, and now it’s just an empty shell. And it’s all we have. We are who we are, and we cannot change this.”

They remain silent for a minute, and Hannibal asks only afterwards, “Will, what is it that you want from me?”

“Nothing.”

Silence again.

“Do you think we should give up on us?” the doctor sets another question, forcing clinical impartiality into his tone.

“We already have.”

Hannibal suddenly leans forward, and pulls Will into a firm embrace. He murmurs into the younger man’s curls, inhaling the familiar smell of Will’s low-quality shampoo and of the frying oil of the fast food Will tends to eat at his workplace for lunch in spite of the doctor’s futile attempts to talk him out of it, “No, Will, you are not boring me. You still intrigue me. Your mind can still enthrall me, and I still find your personality captivating. You are like buying a beautiful picture from a museum and hanging it in my living room. Maybe seeing it for the thousandth time is not an exciting surprise, but that’s when I can find new meanings, hidden layers, and perfect details. Something deeper and more valuable. And seeing it for another thousand times won’t make me stop admiring it – it will make me understand its beauty in a comprehensive context.”

Will doesn’t return the hug. He is sitting on the sofa limp.

For a while, Hannibal keeps him in his arms, waiting for a reaction, but when he doesn’t get any, he slowly lets go of Will, only to put his fingers under the younger man’s stubbly chin, gently forcing his partner to look him in the eye. He tells Will with fondness and patience, “You are the only non-exchangeable part of my life. Maybe, this world is not meant for us to find happiness together, but we started to create our own. We built it together, brick by brick. After a while, we stopped, and we are not finished yet. But I’m not intending to let go of it. I want to build this together with you. I trust us that we can.”

Will gives an empty, sad smile, staring into the blank air instead of Hannibal’s scrutinizing eyes. “If you say so.”

And then he softly pushes the doctor’s arms away, gets up, and leaves the room.

And this is when Hannibal realizes that fixing their relationship won’t be easy. It will definitely be difficult, if not impossible.


	3. Night

Hannibal is standing under the shower, letting the warm, silvery streaks of water and the thick foam of his most exquisite shower cream cover his body. He washes his hair twice, taking care to use the shampoo that used to be Will's favorite scent.

The easiest way to manipulate Will’s mind into enjoying their time together is to give him physical impulses that might be able to please him. And gratifying smells are just a small part; the more effective tool is sex, so Hannibal has decided that he is going to have sex with Will tonight. Their last time was three months ago - the doctor couldn’t even point out when exactly. It was definitely not a remarkable experience. Actually, the last time they’d had a really impressive night together was over a year ago, when they made love right beside one of their dying victims they’d hunted down together in the nearby forest. Hannibal can still feel Will’s feverish pulls at his hair, and the uneven lines of Will’s scars under his hungrily exploring hands. Even though their problems had started to surface by that time, they could completely forget about everything for the night, and all that mattered was the burning, raw passion connecting them. But even then, it was only the unusual nature of the situation and the dark thrill of it - and not each other’s bodies or reactions - that was able to awaken their desire. It’s something that should have been a warning sign at that point.

The doctor makes sure that he gets into the most desirable state possible, spending twice as much time in the bathroom as usual. When he is finally content with his body, he puts on the dark silk pajamas he was wearing the first night they had anal sex. After that, the pajamas became Will’s favorite, and every time the doctor appeared in them, he could make the younger man’s eyes become blurry and watery with lust in seconds.

Upon estimating that he has managed to perfect his looks, Hannibal enters their bedroom, and then slips under the blanket beside Will, who is slumbering on the very edge of the bed, his back towards his partner. Hannibal moves one arm around Will’s torso to pull him closer, tenderly waking him up.

Voice warm and mellow, the doctor murmurs into Will’s ear, “Come, dear one. I want to feel you inside me.” And he gently strokes one of the scars across Will’s stomach through the thin texture of Will’s t-shirt.

First, Will’s body is inert and reluctant to move, but then he stirs. After a languid sigh, Will turns to lie with his face downwards. Without even looking up at his partner, he whispers against the pillow, “Let’s do it the other way. Fuck me.”

And Hannibal knows that the younger man asks for this because this way, Will doesn’t need to show any kind of physical response during sex, other than lying under his partner and letting him take him. The other version would soon show that Will is not getting aroused by what they are doing. The last occasion they had sex months ago went exactly like this. Will didn’t even get an erection, just kept lying under the older man like a dead body.

Hannibal can still remember the burning passion they shared two years ago. The way Will pulled him down on the pillows, growling from raw need... The way Will hungrily touched him with hurried, eager grasps, panting his name, licking and biting, leaving wet marks on his body everywhere... And the way Will fucked him into the mattress with dark passion, unleashed, untamed, bursting out of his beautiful mind like fire storm. Or the way Will dragged him on top and begged him with desperate impatience to take him, kiss him, fuck him, so broken from uncontrolled desire, so pure.

After they’d ultimately managed to pass the point of hesitation in their relationship, Will didn’t need to withhold his physical impulses any longer, and Hannibal helped him let more and more of the natural instincts break forth. The doctor could keep a much higher level of self-command, and remained much more reserved, but he found Will’s eagerness and impatience endearing, and liked to see the signs of how much Will wanted him. It showed him that Will was finally truly his. It was the greatest of all beauties Hannibal had ever seen in his life.

The burning longing has abated simultaneously with all the other positive aspects of their relationship. The occasions when Will pulled Hannibal towards the nearest piece of furniture, breathing yearning words into his ear with a primal, unchained, hatred-like-violent desire slowly came less and less frequent, and he hasn’t done that for a year now. Both of them initiated sex less and less often, and lately, when they did, it was mostly out of a sense of duty, feeling a bit uncomfortable that they didn’t attend to the other’s physical needs for long weeks. It also meant that their sexual intercourse turned mechanical and short, like some burdensome routine task to get over with – the sooner the better.

Hannibal takes the bottle of lube from the top drawer of the night stand, sets it on the bed, and gently pushes the blanket aside to uncover Will. With his free hand, he strokes the younger man’s back, and then tries to pull Will’s t-shirt upwards, but his attempt results only in a displeased grunt from Will, muffled by the pillow.

“Take this off tonight, please,” Hannibal tells him with patience.

“There’s no need...” Will grumbles, but he nevertheless obeys and lifts his upper body on his elbows. He drags his t-shirt off, tossing it aside on the floor, and then sinks back onto the mattress, covering his face with his lower arms and the creases of the pillow.

Hannibal takes the time to unbutton and take his expensive silk pajama shirt off, and returns to Will only when he is already half-naked. He runs his fingertips along Will’s spine while placing a few brief kisses on the younger man’s neck.

“Would you like to try something new?” he asks between two kisses, attempting to make the short hairs stand on the back of his partner’s neck with the light caresses of his breathed words – to no avail.

“No, it’s okay like this,” Will’s listless answer arrives from the pillow.

Hannibal clearly remembers the first time they tried anal sex. It was three months after they had left the United States. It started awkward and ungainly. Hannibal tried to keep as much control and dignity as he managed, but this was something neither one of them had ever done before. Neither one of them knew how intense and painful it could be until they started experimenting. But at this point, Will had already been ready to give himself over to Hannibal, and he didn’t try to resist any new level of imbalance the doctor wanted to experience with him, and Hannibal was eager to test this with pushing Will until the younger man almost couldn’t take more. And at the end of the night, Will had already had his first orgasm with Hannibal inside him, and it was a not concealable evidence of the fact that he had ultimately opened up for the doctor.

That night was probably one of the most significant events of their relationship. It was when they both gave in to each other in a way they hadn’t done before. From that moment on, they no longer doubted that they truly belonged to each other. And no matter how much effort and determination it took to build the mutual trust between them, after that night, they both knew that they were going to succeed. It was wonderful how Will could figure out with his empathy how he could please Hannibal more and more, and Hannibal, with his ability to understand the hidden bodily signs human minds send, could also give Will a never-experienced level of satisfaction. Both their bodies and their minds found real perfection.

And now, as Hannibal is kneeling above Will, softly pulling off the younger man’s boxers, he thinks of the pure, deep longing that once connected them.

He tries to be slow, yet passionate as he puts his hands on Will’s bare hips, and strokes him, first mildly, and then rougher and more eager. He also starts licking the sensitive skin of Will’s neck, enjoying the familiar, salty taste he hasn’t felt in months. He waits for goose bumps to appear on the wet skin surface he leaves behind with each long, savoring lap of his tongue, but Will’s body doesn’t react. Hannibal experiments further with a few soft, superficial bites along Will’s muscular back, but the only visible response he can coax from his partner is an uncomfortable twitch of Will’s left shoulder blade, when one of the bites turns a bit stronger than the previous ones.

After a while, Hannibal accepts the futility of his attempts, and puts some lube on his fingers, pressing them against Will’s cleft but without penetrating. He massages Will’s tight muscles first, and doesn’t enter him with any of his fingers, just tries to tease him.

He plans to spend as much time as possible loosening Will up... But when he hears Will’s stifled yawn coming from the pillow, it suddenly makes him change his mind. He mechanically pushes the first finger in. He soon adds the second one, making Will audibly grind his teeth, face still buried into the texture of the pillow, hidden behind his arms. Hannibal starts moving his fingers while Will’s breathing speeds up, but it’s not from longing or pleasure; Hannibal knows that it’s just because of the unpleasant strain.

Hannibal does only the most necessary steps to prepare Will. After that, he pulls the younger man’s hips high enough to be comfortable to penetrate, and then pushes into him with empty routine.

Even though he knows that he could smell Will’s arousal if the younger man enjoyed what they are doing, after a few shallow, spiritless thrusts, the doctor still puts his hand to Will’s lap to check his partner’s condition, but Will’s body is completely reactionless. Hannibal strokes Will’s sensitive length a few times, but when all he can caress is the limp, unresponsive lethargy of flesh, he stops touching.

Slowing down, he asks quietly, “Would you like to switch position?”

“It’s okay like this,” Will utters through gritted teeth.

“I think you’d prefer another angle.”

“No, it’s okay.”

Hannibal completely stops thrusting, and grabs Will’s arm firmly. His voice is suddenly ice cold. “No, it’s not.”

Will lets out a groan, and then he opens his legs a bit wider under the doctor as if inviting him to continue, taking him deeper in. “I’m just a bit tired,” the younger man whispers against the pillow. “Go on.”

Hannibal starts moving again, letting go of Will’s arm, holding Will’s hips in place instead with both hands now, and tries to concentrate on finishing as soon as possible. All he can see on Will’s body is the mild, badly suppressed tension of discomfort.

Hannibal closes his eyes and visualizes their first time, and thrusts into Will as fast as he can.

After his brief, superficial, and almost unsatisfying orgasm, the doctor is lying next to Will, staring into the darkness of the night. Will shifts a bit further away from him with a silent, pained gasp, to pull his boxer shorts on and adjust his pillow. And then, the younger man is lying without a stir too.

The ticking of the expensive, carved wall clock is clearly audible in the room.

After long minutes of silence, Hannibal quietly asks, “Will, do you feel unable to hold on to us?”

Will pretends that he has already fallen asleep and didn’t hear the question. He gives no reply.

But in the morning, while the doctor is still surrounded by the dark heaviness of his dreamless sleep, and the vague morning lights can only partially sift through his closed eyelids, he feels a brief, warm touch on his face. Hannibal doesn’t open his eyes, but he knows that Will has placed a small kiss on his right cheek before getting up to go downstairs to make their coffee.


	4. The Walk

Hannibal doesn’t feel like giving up on his plan of solving their problems just because the first two steps didn’t really work out. The small kiss Will gave him in the morning has convinced him that his hopes are not mere delusion. He decides to give Will an exciting challenge now.

The idea is simple. He is going to follow Will by stealth when Will takes Abby out for a walk. When it was his turn to take Abby, Hannibal spotted a jogger, who kicked a pine cone at an old lady when she politely tried to ask him not to run across her flower-beds. The jogger takes a similar route to the one Will and Hannibal take with Abby alongside the nearby forest. Hannibal has seen this jogger there at least eight times now, always on Fridays. He must be there tomorrow afternoon too. He is going to be the perfect victim. Athletic and heavily built. In an unexpected moment, Hannibal is going to push him in Will’s way, and they are going to hunt down their prey together. It’s going to be a sudden surprise and a fairly difficult task, taking into consideration of the physical traits of the jogger, and the doctor hopes that this adrenalin rush and pleasantly tiring activity will remind them of the beauties of their relationship. Perhaps they could prepare the meat for Sunday’s lunch together as well.

At the beginning of their new life, they cooked together often. First, Will was mostly just helping out with the smaller tasks while Hannibal prepared the delicate organs, but then the doctor also encouraged Will to implement some of his own ideas, and the foods Will made weren’t bad at all. He didn’t pay as much attention to the tiny details as the doctor did, but the result was always delicious. A bit coarse and simple compared to Doctor Lecter’s meals, but the taste was nevertheless rich with a unique undertone. Hannibal found it a pleasant variance.

After a while, they divided the tasks, and Will was responsible for preparing the fish, and Hannibal for preparing the red meat. First, they did this together as well, assisting each other, but then, as their passion faded away, they started to avoid each other’s presence in the kitchen. They gave themselves separate tasks, and whenever one of them asked if the other needed any help, the answer was just a lackluster, “No.” This year, they haven’t cooked together yet at all.

Once, while Hannibal was preparing an Asian soup, Will went into the kitchen, searching for a pair of scissors. When he saw what Hannibal was doing, he stopped for a moment by the stove, and tried to suggest to the doctor that he should perhaps add some more fresh coriander leaves. Hannibal gave him a contemptuous glance and then turned his back on him without a word. Will left the kitchen. An hour later, while finishing the meal, the idea took shape in the doctor’s head that maybe Will was not trying to question his expertise when commenting on the amount of coriander leaves used, but made a vague attempt to participate. But as Hannibal was standing beside the perfectly garnished, ready soup, he realized that it was too late for second thoughts.

This is the closest they have gotten to cooking together this year.

Hannibal has come to the conclusion that they’ll need to change this. They have to stop these tendencies and give back the beauty to their everyday tasks. And catching their prey together seems the perfect first step on this path.

So when Friday afternoon arrives, he puts his dark coat on, the one that’s the most difficult to spot, and waits for Will to leave the house with Abby. When Will’s muttered words – as the younger man is peacefully explaining the weather and the prospect of her dinner to the dog – die away, Hannibal follows them from a great distance, choosing a different path across the cold autumn forest.

He taught Will how to follow his prey unnoticed, and Will already knows all his hiding tricks, so Hannibal reminds himself that he must be very careful if he really wants to surprise his partner.

He keeps the necessary distance, and starts to prepare for the possible turn where they get closer to the jogger he is planning to use for his gift, but Will suddenly changes course. He crosses a glade and sits down on an abandoned bench, while Abby is laying herself down in front of her owner’s legs patiently, as if she was expecting a longer wait.

Hannibal hides behind a tree and waits too.

For a few minutes, Will is just sitting there, telling a story to Abby, but then someone appears along another path leading to this spot. Hannibal turns in that direction, and he can see a middle-aged woman arrive, who is walking a dog too. She’s got short black hair, and is wearing a long, green coat. Her eyes are a matching bluish green, round and shiny, like huge pearls. She is a bit too short, and maybe not beautiful in the usual sense, but she has a unique charm and the aura of friendly warmth that makes her definitely appealing to the senses. A Golden Retriever follows her closely by her side.

And before Hannibal could mentally prepare for what’s about to happen, the woman walks straight up to Will, Will puts an arm around her waist, and they kiss each other on the lips.

Hannibal stops breathing for a second. And then the woman smiles at Will and sits down next to him on the bench. Their dogs greet each other with a familiar, happy bark, and then start playing a few feet away from their owners.

Probably, if a jagged blade was driven through Hannibal’s chest and dragged back and forth a few times, it would still be a more pleasant surprise to him than seeing this brief kiss.

_Will is having an affair._

And this revelation erases all the ideas Hannibal had about their evening.

He thought that he had known all of Will’s thoughts by now, and he could read anything from a single pull of Will’s eyebrows if he wanted, but suddenly he realizes that he was badly mistaken. He has never even once thought about Will cheating on him. Somehow, it seemed impossible.

When they started their new life together, the doctor didn’t plan their relationship to get physical. It was something neither one of them had planned, but it was what helped them get over the complicated spider web of lies and mistrust they had created between them.

On the first night of their escape, they were both sleeping with a weapon hidden under their blanket, far from each other by the two opposite walls of their motel room, ready to instantly make a counterattack, whenever necessary. The second and the third nights went like this, too. On the fourth one, however, they had to sleep in an empty garage because they couldn’t find a safe motel along the road. It was cold and very dark. And after a while of pointless freezing, Hannibal finally put his hands on Will’s left arm, and tried to pull the younger man a bit closer on the rough asphalt, so that they could both use all the blankets. Will was a bit hesitant first, but he understood the doctor’s intention, and after a bit of considering, he gave half of his blankets to Doctor Lecter, and pulled Hannibal’s ones on himself too.

Every five or six minutes, they shifted a bit closer to each other, and somehow, an hour later, they ended up completely in each other’s arms, warming their hands under each other’s coats. They forgot about the gun and the knife they had been hiding during the previous nights, and fell asleep peacefully.

It was something no well-planned words, finely-polished therapeutic talks, or complex mind games could have solved. The small physical signs of affection finally started to ease the cold resent left after their past grievances and scars.

In the morning, Hannibal adjusted Will’s disorderly curls with a few strokes of his palms, and Will removed a spider web from the doctor’s coat with much more tender attention than it would have been necessary to accomplish these tasks. And after that, not only their physical connection, but also their whole relationship started to change.

The more they touched each other, the more warm fondness started to find its way to the surface. And the gentle bond of friendliness soon evolved into something more. Their bodies commanded them to overstep the limits of friendship, and it almost happened invisibly. Their strokes, touches, and tentative caresses somehow passed the line that could have been considered a friendly gesture, and it didn’t really surprise the doctor when one night – after Will had been reluctantly, but continuously inching closer and closer to him under the blanket of their double-bed – he could catch the distinct smell of the younger man’s arousal in the clean air of their hotel room.

Probably because their relationship was evolving this intensely, and it didn’t happen at a pre-planned pace, they didn’t really have the chance to set any kind of boundaries like what was allowed or not tolerated in their relationship. Their minds were working in synchrony, so tightly woven together that it wasn’t necessary to speak aloud. That’s why they’ve never talked about the topic of cheating. It seemed more than natural that no third party could come even close to what they had together. There was no room for anyone else. Not because of some hypocritical rules created by society about monogamy or some other form of insincere tradition, but because this was so deeply about just the two of them. If the whole outer world had been set on fire and disappeared into ashes, it wouldn’t have meant anything to them. What they had was just about the two of them.

Before getting physical with Will and while he was planning only a deep friendship, Hannibal imagined their life together in a way that they would have female sex partners as before. They would go out on dates on their own if they wanted, seducing whomever they found attractive. And then, sometimes, they would bring the prettiest ones home and share them. It didn’t seem problematic to him. He felt confident that he would like Will’s taste, and he didn’t see any reason Will wouldn’t like his. The doctor was also open to the idea of Will not wanting to share his sex partners, keeping this private, even though Hannibal personally preferred the first option. But he thought that this segment of their lives was nothing more than a small part, like going to an opera gala or choosing an ingredient from the spice rack, for example.

And after they first had sex, he hasn’t even considered this question again. This whole topic simply disappeared from his mind, it seemed so pointless. They had everything together. Literally everything, and other people didn’t matter anymore.

Now, as Hannibal watches this woman lean into Will’s arms, placing small pecks on Will’s neck along his scarf, all he feels is the growing cold inside his heart. It’s not jealousy, because he knows that this woman can’t give even half of what he could to Will. What he feels is the coldness of the realization that it’s too late to fix their relationship. It fell apart. The outer world crept inside, and it has occupied the ruins of the beauty they let collapse.

Will is looking into the distance, eyes sad and lonely.

The couple spends an hour on the bench, quietly talking, holding hands, and sometimes giving each other brief, superficial kisses. Their voices are very low, Hannibal can’t catch a single word from where he is standing. Will’s gaze remains far away, as if he was wishing to disappear into the empty, gray autumn sky.

When the rain starts to fall, the couple gets up from the bench, and they say goodbye to each other with a breathed, short kiss. They walk away in two different directions.

And Hannibal is standing there, alone in the icy forest, in the cold, dark rain for long hours, even after Will and the woman have been long gone.

Late in the evening, when the doctor arrives home, Abby is already half-asleep, and greets him only with a drowsy poke of her nose at his hand. Hannibal spends a while shaking off the rain drops from the expensive texture of his coat before hanging it to dry.

He finds Will in the dining room, sitting by the table, alone. There are no plates or any remnants of a consumed dinner in front of him, only a bottle of wine and a glass. Will is drinking red wine, and he must be doing it for a while now, since the bottle is half empty.

Hannibal stands still in the door of the room, watching the scene in silence.

Finally, he remarks, “That was for the sauce of the Sunday steak.”

Will is staring into his glass, while giving his hoarse reply, “I’ll buy another one tomorrow.”

“I’ve told you at least a dozen times that in the ebony cupboard, I keep the cooking wines.”

“I know.”

Silence.

“We also have drinking wines, foremost in quality. Would you prefer–?” The doctor makes a slight gesture with his left arm towards their wine cooler in the kitchen, but Will shakes his head.

“Nope, I’m good.”

Hannibal stops in the middle of the motion, and then he slowly lets his hand sink back down to his side. He stays stationary for almost a minute.

When he finally stirs, he takes a few steps towards the younger man to sit down by the table next to him. For a while they both keep their eyes on the wooden slab, mutely watching the carvings decorating it. And then, the doctor takes a glass from the nearest cabinet. Will’s eyes dart at him for a split second, only to return to the table slab in the next one. Turning towards the bottle, Hannibal takes it from in front of Will, fills his own glass, and then puts the bottle back to its former place.

They are sitting there by the table, drinking in small, infrequent gulps, watching some empty details of the furniture.

They don’t speak, just drink the wine in quiet. The only sound breaking the long silence of the room is Abby’s gruff bark while she is chasing a squirrel across the backyard before laying herself back down to sleep again with a short, vigilant growl.


	5. Leave

Hannibal makes cheese omelets for breakfast while Will is sitting by the dining room table, holding the morning newspaper on his knees, watching the older man through the open door with a numb, rueful blur in his eyes. As Hannibal waits for the pale yellow of the eggs to turn golden, his thoughts are floating in his head in continuous, monotone swirls, centering around the same cold pain he felt from the moment he saw Will and the woman kiss.

What is left for him to do now?

Take a childish, piqued revenge? Kill the woman? Kill them both? Punish Will? Torture him, scar him, in worse ways than ever? But to what end? Hannibal knows that it wouldn’t make him feel any better. It would, if it could change something. If it could change anything. But it can’t. And it’s not Will’s fault that they ended up like this. This is something they created together, and Hannibal is at least as much to blame as Will. They both let their chance of a beautiful life slip away. They had all they could’ve ever dreamed of, and let it go to waste.

The doctor serves their omelets, and they start to eat, not looking at each other now. Hannibal can sense that Will knows that the older man has found out about the affair. The doctor tries to focus on the bites he cuts with mechanical and precise little motions.

Will suddenly looks up from his omelet, swallows a bite, and then breaks the silence, “You know about her, don’t you?”

Hannibal lets a faint smile appear on his face as he is realizing how they can still read each other, in spite of everything. For a few seconds, his pain abates. “Yes,” he answers frankly.

“How long?”

“I saw you yesterday.”

Will eats another bite, before he utters, staring straight at the doctor, “This is not her fault, I hope you understand that.”

“I do.” And Hannibal truly does. After all, it’s not like she took Will from him. They were the ones who lost each other, and that woman has nothing to do with this.

And then they eat their breakfast in silence. When they are finished, and Hannibal gets up to collect the dishes, he asks while piling up the plates on his left arm with well-practiced routine, “What is it that you expect to get from her I can’t give you?”

Will pulls his eyebrows into a weary frown. “This is the point, don’t you see?” he replies, mouth squirming from the surfacing mental torment. “She doesn’t give me the things you do. She doesn’t understand me, she doesn’t know me, and she cannot read a single reaction I give. She doesn’t _see_ me. And with her, I can feel free. Nobody is inside my head, no mutual routines are stuck under my skin... There is no depth to anything she says. I don’t have to sink into her mind or explore my own with a fervent, dark urge. I’m alone and free. That’s how I used to live my whole life. I miss it. You showed me a kind of freedom no one else could. But I miss my other freedom. The only freedom I have ever known. The freedom of loneliness. The distance I could keep from people and... and from myself. I miss it so much that I’m afraid that I’ll grow to truly hate our habits, our circumstances and everything we have, because they all tie me tighter and tighter to you.”

Hannibal carries away the remnants of the breakfast, and serves their coffee.

“Does being with her make you happy, Will?” he asks while setting a cup in front of the younger man.

“You know the answer. It doesn’t. My only chance to find real happiness was with you.”

“And mine was with you.”

Will gives a sad smile. “Well, at least we tried.”

They finish their coffee without any further talking. This time it’s Will who gathers the used tableware and carries it to the kitchen sink.

When he returns to the dining room, he sits back down beside the table, and this is when he speaks again, “She is moving to France this weekend; she’s got a new job. She won’t come back.” Will pauses briefly, and then he adds, “She wants me to go with her, and live a normal life with her. We could be free again.”

After these words, the air of the room freezes, and neither one of them stirs.

Hannibal feels the cold grow in his veins.

He was forced to learn at an early age how to let go. Not to hold on to anything but go on with his life, adapt to new circumstances, and search for his own ways to create beauty around him. Not to let anything pull him back. How to re-create the valuable things he had lost – from different raw material.

But he wanted Will to be the only exception. He wanted to keep Will as he was, and never let go. He wanted Will to be the one who never disappears. He wanted to belong to Will, and stay like that for the rest of his life.

However, he wanted to keep Will back by making him happy and getting his own happiness from Will, and living the perfect life with him, and now he sees that it’s something they couldn’t give each other. They’ve failed. They’ve tried, and they’ve lost their chance. What he was dreaming to have with Will was just an illusion. It does not exist.

Maybe, it existed for a few months, but they were unable to keep it in the many details and burdens of everyday tasks. Neither one of them paid attention to learn how to enjoy their life in the long run; they were just sinking into the highest moments, letting the ephemeral beauty and satisfaction blind them. They believed that after struggling so much to finally be together and learn how to love each other, happiness was simply going to stay with them as a reward. But real happiness does not work like that.

Reality is built from so many little details that with time, they couldn’t hold it back from falling apart. Maybe, if they had valued their time together, their opportunities and each other more in every single detail, they could have kept their beautiful happiness alive. But instead they’ve lost it. It’s too late to erase this last year, for example, and start it from its first day. It’s gone.

There’s nothing left.

The doctor slowly turns to his document bag, which is resting on a nearby cupboard. He is taking out his calendar, and opens it in front of him.

When he speaks, his voice is low and matter-of-fact, in a numb way. “I was invited to a professional conference about brain surgery in Rome for this Saturday and Sunday, but I declined the offer first. I’m wondering now that perhaps, it’d be a good idea to backtrack on my refusal and visit the conference today. I’ll stay there for the weekend.”

Will mutely nods.

Hannibal gets up and leaves the room with paced steps. From the corner of his eye, he can see Will collapse over the dining table and hide his head behind his arms. The doctor goes upstairs to pack his suitcase without looking back again.


	6. After the Travel

Hannibal tries to spend his weekend fully focusing on the keynotes of the conference, but the only thought that can take root in his head is that he is going to return to the empty house when he goes home Sunday evening.

For so many years now, his actions had only one clear purpose: to make Will his, to teach Will to accept the natural darkness that’s living within, keep him for himself, and make him happy, and with this, gaining his own happiness as well. To be with Will and build their world of beauty and perfection together.

Basically, he understands that this is where he should let go of this dream, and give up. They had their life together, and it didn’t work out. It was not beauty and perfection. But understanding it doesn’t make it easier to accept. And maybe it was a sort of beauty and perfection – just not the blazing, burning one. A less apparent one. They should’ve found it underneath the thick layers of everyday nuisances.

And when Hannibal is sitting on the plane on his way back home, the unsettling thought starts to shape in his mind that perhaps he is going to be unable to move on. And this unpleasant feeling doesn’t leave while he is looking through the cab window, watching the dark roads and the lights of buildings rushing by.

He has never felt anything more desolate than to arrive home to the empty house he used to share with Will.

He understands only now that his last few years completely centered around his life with Will, and everything he did was a part of his plans together with Will. Everything he did only had a meaning in the context of his relationship to Will. His life with Will evolved into something that cannot be converted back to its previous form. And it was what he dreamed of while fighting for having Will by his side. But this is a hidden secret, not the obvious surface. And now it’s too late to understand this. Only now that he has ultimately lost Will, he realizes that this was the most beautiful thing he has ever had... from the first moment of their relationship to the very last one. And he cannot just simply start all over alone, as if it had never happened. Nothing makes sense anymore.

Maybe, he should follow Will and his lover, and bring Will home, chain him, and force him to stay.

But he knows that there’s no point. They got their chance, and it’s gone. What’s spoiled is spoiled, and he cannot change it with raw force. He could have changed this together with Will, with long months of trying, but only if they both had wanted it and started it in time.

He pauses for a second before he crosses the front yard, because he spots their Rottweiler running towards him, happy to greet him.

Hannibal finds it curious that Will has left Abby home for him. He would have expected the younger man to take the dog, but rationally, it’s understandable why he hasn’t done that. This place is a safe haven for Abby’s tortured soul; this is where she feels comfortable and free. Probably, Will was coolheaded enough to see this and gave her up.

Hannibal makes a slow, measured motion to stroke Abby’s forehead with his gloved fingertips, and then he takes a vague step towards the inside of the house. He knows that the worst part is yet to come, when he has to walk through the empty building.

He can still sense the reminiscence of Will’s familiar smell, and Will’s things are still everywhere as he enters the house. He tries not to focus on anything that particularly belonged to Will, but he has to realize that every object holds dozens of memories that connect him to the younger man.

And while he is taking a shower alone in the grandiose bathroom, all he can think about is this last year, when their relationship ultimately went wrong, and about the question why they didn’t timely try to change the growing coldness. It wouldn’t have been easy, it would have needed a tremendous amount of time and effort, but they could’ve learned it together if they’d started it in time...

He knows that he should accept the current situation, but he also knows that he won’t be able to. He is not the kind of person who simply accepts his circumstances. He is the one who creates his fate according to his own plans. But now there is nothing else left to do. This is all he could create. And this vicious torment of powerlessness and aching vacancy is the worst of all. And he is not sure that it’s ever going to get any better.

Hannibal comes to a halt in the door of the dark bedroom, and he is staring into the empty blackness, knowing that he won’t be able to fall asleep. Probably, he’ll need to call Will on the phone and listen to his breathing for at least a few seconds... But not now. He should be able to suppress this urge for at least one more day.

He sets his cell phone on his night stand before mechanically laying himself down on the side of the bed he used to occupy while Will was here with him. The idea alone that he is going to call Will gives him back some comfort. Now, his actions have a meaning again. Things start to make sense.

But the next second, he hears a few small creaks of the mattress, plus a drowsy puff from underneath the blanket, and then warm, bare arms are locking around his torso, and Will clumsily nestles up against the doctor’s chest in the dark.

“I wanted to stay up until you arrived home, but you were late and I fell asleep,” Will mutters into the older man’s neck, gently nuzzling it. “How was your trip?”

Hannibal rarely gets astonished to a level that he is at a loss of a reaction, but he feels frozen for a few seconds now. And even when he gets back some of his composure, and mechanically adjusts the crumpled blanket around Will, he doesn’t speak.

He slowly understands, that after all this time – after everything lost its shine, turned empty, deteriorated, and burned out – sadly, one thing hasn’t changed: no matter how bad, meaningless, and destructive their relationship is, they are unable to let go of each other. And he knows that eventually, this realization is going to make both of them numb and bitter, but for the moment, it fills him with contented warmth.

Will nudges the doctor’s neck with his nose again. “Are you tired after the long travel?”

Hannibal finally opens his mouth, and he answers with a murmured, “Yes.”

“How much?” And a little bite worries the soft skin of the doctor’s neck. When the bite is followed by a brief lick, Hannibal feels some tension building up in his crotch.

“Not so much,” he replies with a faint ghost of a triumphant smile on his pale lips, pulling Will closer, encircling him with his arms. They start giving each other blind, wet kisses in the dark.

They haven’t kissed each other in months, and now whenever their lips meet, the doctor hungrily tries to savor more and more of the familiar taste of Will’s tongue.

After placing a few damp pecks on the doctor’s finely shaven jawline, Will asks huskily, “How much lube do we have from last time?”

“We have some.”

“Is it enough for a long, sleepy ‘welcome home’ sex?”

And after that, there aren’t any more questions, and the silence of the dark room is getting filled with the rustling of the bed sheets, the blunt thumps of the mattress, and their intensifying, thick groans.

Two hours later, they are lying next to each other, dripping with sweat, taking deep, ragged breaths, entangled in the pile of stained bed sheets and blankets, trembling from the aftershock of their laboriously-reached orgasms. Their relief was not violent and burning as it would have been two years ago; it was slow and sluggish. But in the end, it has also been deeply satisfying, and surrounds them now with the warmth of exhaustion.

Will mumbles drowsily, “I was thinking about us during the weekend. I was thinking... and... and... I was out with Abby by the lake, fishing. And I caught some carp. So... so I was thinking... Do you remember that rare Nigerian soup you saw on TV like six months ago, and you said you wanted to try that? I was wondering that maybe we could cook it together after work tomorrow, from the carp and the racist mail carrier we’d chopped, packaged, and placed into the deep freezer in July. So I visited your favorite specialty shop and bought the missing ingredients. They are in the fridge, under your tropical fruit section. Do you have some free time tomorrow evening?”

Hannibal searches for Will’s hand in the dark and mutely takes it, while Will continues in his sleepy murmur, “And the new neighbors... Three weeks ago, I overheard them gossiping about us. I still have some difficulties with the local language, but I think they called us names, something like ‘fucked-up homos,’ and that was just one of the nicer things they said... I guess they deserve a lesson. What about that new challenge you promised?”

_\- The End -_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, that was it. :) Thank you all for reading and leaving kudos, comments, bookmarks.  
> If you might have any questions or if you want to chat or talk, feel free to add me on skype (my ID: maitai1327).  
> If you are interested in my other Hannibal/Will stories 'A Way To Help', 'Palace of Dreams', 'Online Catch' and 'Losing Control', you can read them on fanfiction.net (https://www.fanfiction.net/u/4777211/MaiTai1327).  
> If you are interested in my other Hannibal/Will story 'The Purple Room', you can read it on a WordPress blog (https://maitaithepurpleroom.wordpress.com).  
> If you might need help with text editing, you can find my beta profile on fanfiction.net (https://www.fanfiction.net/beta/4777211/MaiTai1327).


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